Leg Post 58
In Leg Post 58 the hecatoncheir Imhoptah was working on one of his newest impossible creations. The Helicon Ark had become extremely popular in ancient Egypt since its creation and was used by a page bringing him a message. Due to his name, the Egyptians would refer to him as Imhotep son of Ptah, though he was not son of their god Ptah. The page revealed there was a visiting god and they take the chariot to see the pharoah, Ozymandias while taking an impossible short-cut. Once there he is confronted by Chronos, who is annoyed by his 'impossible creations' breaking time on Earth. Imhotep, who calls himself the 'cripple-smith' as he is missing ninety-four of his arms, admits that he gets bored and would leave if there was something better. Chronos aids this by bringing Zoroaster to the court. Imhotep agrees to become Zoroaster's apprentice to become the next NeSorcerer. Ozymandias wants his name inscribed on the works of Imhotep so that future generations would fear his name, though those same impossible creations would be long decayed by then. Post THE SIX-ARMED SAGE OF ANCIENT EGYPT ''Circa 2700 BC''. Give or take a few hundred years. What, you were expecting precision? Go read something else for that. A young man rides a chariot at breakneck speed through the lush oases of the Egyptian desert. The chariot is made of leprechaun gold, sunbeams from an eclipse, and the diamond tears of an imaginary woman. Dubbed the Helicon Ark, it is the current-year model, and is wildly popular with everyone in Egypt, and not just because it looks wicked cool. It also flies, and is pulled by giant winged clockwork cats. Page: Imhotep son of Ptah! Imhotep son of Ptah! As the chariot bursts out of the forest, the latest pyramid being constructed comes into its driver's view. Mimes are operating clockwork cranes to lift non-existent blocks, which then become solid and real once they slide into place. Lunar mirrors catch moonlight reflected from the noonday sun to power the various tools and contraptions. Said "tools" include teams of slaves, who are fed the impossible moonlight to satisfy their nutritional needs and increase their strength and stamina, such that they may better aid the construction process. The one being addressed is currently peering over a blueprint on papryus, held up for him by two assistant architects. A stylus is held between his teeth, and one of those Egyptian frock things is over his head, while a loincloth and sandals gird his lower half. His torso is bare, save for jeweled bracers and an amulet signifying his rank, revealing that he has not two but six arms. He does not turn as he hears the chariot driver calling him, but grits his teeth. Imhoptah: Why can't any of you mortals get it right? How hard is it to say Imhoptah? EEM-HO-TAH. Not "Imhotep son of Ptah"! I'm not related to your deities, dammit! The assistant architects say nothing, used to their boss' rants and occasional blasphemy. After all, he says far wilder things than this, and, more importantly, the pharaoh Ozymandias favors him due to his impossible engineering feats. Chariot Driver: Imhotep son of Ptah! Imhoptah: What is it? Chariot Driver: My lord, I come bearing a message from Pharaoh! Imhoptah: He sent a messenger? Instead of using that cell phone I made for him? The Chariot Driver stares blankly at him. Imhoptah: Let me guess, it's far grander to send a flunky out, than to use some far-more-useful device. The Chariot Driver continues to stare blankly. Imhoptah sighs. Imhoptah: More like he can't figure out how it works I bet. What is it? Chariot Driver: Great Pharaoh summons you to his court! Imhoptah: Don't tell me he's got another princess visiting that he wants to impress. I am not a circus clown he can trot out to do tricks! Chariot Driver: My lord, a deity has manifested to Great Pharaoh! Imhoptah: Oh, bother. I hope it's not Thoth trying to tell me how my architecture doesn't make sense again, or my great nephew Apollo wanting me to invent some new impossible animals for him to emulate. I still regret making the platypus for him. Come on then. He climbs up onto the chariot behind the messenger, and the chariot lurches into motion. It's lurching rather more than it should, in fact, and Imhoptah frowns. Imhoptah: They're starting to fail already? I may have to start releasing a new model every six months instead of every 12. You'd think entropy wouldn't work so fast on impossible things, if it's busy being gaoled in Tartarus. Turn left here! Chariot Driver: Uh, my lord? The road to the palace is- Imhoptah: Turn left here, I say! Go round the bend, then hang another left. Chariot Driver: That'll put us right back where we started! Imhoptah: Nah, we'll be at the palace in a tenth the time. Chariot Driver: That's impos- He clams up. Everyone who spends any time around Imhoptah knows that saying the word "impossible" to him only prompts a manic grin from the six-armed sage. Following instructions, he isn't that surprised to find themselves parked right in front of the pharaoh's palace. Imhoptah: There we are. Good chap. Chariot Driver: Thank you, Imhotep son of Ptah! The six-armed sage frowns, but the chariot driver doesn't notice. Suppressing a sigh, the hecatoncheires hops off the chariot and strides into the palace, everyone along the way kowtowing deeply until he reaches the throne room. Ozymandias is seated on his throne, being fanned by palm leaves, fed grapes, and served wine, while standing before him and looking rather pissy is a woman with black hair and red streaks. Curiously, the woman is far lighter-skinned than any Egyptian Imhoptah has met, her flesh hued more like his Olympian nephews and nieces. Chronos: So you're the cause of all this mess. Imhoptah frowns. He has admittedly gotten used to being treated with some respect and decorum. Plus he has no idea who this woman is. No deity he recognizes, though admittedly he doesn't keep up with the Who's Who of Olympus. Imhoptah: What mess? Ozymandias: Great Goddess of Time, may I present my court sage and chief architect, Imhotep son of Ptah! It's all Imhoptah can do not to facepalm. Honestly what is so hard about saying Imhoptah? Chronos: You're destabilizing the timeline with all this advanced tech and magic and whatnot. Honestly, I've had it with all these aliens dropping from the sky, thinking they can cause a little trouble because none of the big players are allowed to set foot here. You blokes aren't allow to cause a big ruckus here either! Imhoptah: You're not Aeon, and like you said, he's banned from Earth anyway... Chronos bristles a bit at the mention of the NeSiverse god of time. Chronos: Damn straight he is! Now you clear on out of here and take your toys with you! Imhoptah: Hey, I have just as much right to be on this planet as Zeus! Chronos: Sometimes I want to kick HIS sorry arse off this planet too, you know! Imhoptah: Ha! Do not blame you in the least. My nephew gets up to far too many shenanigans for anyone's good, least of all his own. Chronos: Wait... you're his uncle? You're a titan? I thought all the titans were- Imhoptah: Imprisoned, yes, they are, but no, I'm not a titan. I'm Imhoptah, cripple-smith of the hecatoncheires. Chronos: The who? Wait, cripple? Imhoptah: Hecatoncheires normally have a hundred arms. Chronos: Ahh. Well, I'm sorry and all that, but you still have to stop spreading around this advanced stuff, relations to natives or not. Atlantis tried that BS, and look what happened to them. Imhoptah: Wait, you destroyed the Atlantean ultranexus? Bloody hell, that pot of aether made my work yottatons easier! Chronos: Well, I'm glad it's gone then! But no, the ultranexus was destroyed by some traitor within Atlantis' ranks. Though it's a shame its destruction caused so much global devastation. She looks genuinely sorry for that, and Imhoptah decides maybe she isn't a total bitch after all. Imhoptah: Look, you don't have to worry about my stuff destabilizing the timeline. It all breaks down quickly anyway, especially whenever I get bored and leave. Chronos raises an eyebrow. Ozymandias looks a bit alarmed at the prospect of his favorite "circus clown" leaving. Chronos: You don't build stuff to last? Imhoptah: Of course I do! Otherwise it'd blow up as soon as it was made! Chronos: You're not exactly lobbying for a ringing endorsement from me, are you? Imhoptah: Look, I make impossible things. It's what hecatoncheires do. But reality doesn't like impossible things. Chronos: Hmm. I see. I don't like it, but it's...acceptable. I'd still like you out of here as soon as possible. Imhoptah shrugs. Imhoptah: Send something more interesting my way then. Chronos gives him a cryptic smile. Chronos: Challenge accepted. She vanishes, causing a bit of a stir amongst several courtiers. Ozymandias is unfazed by it, however, looking a touch more concerned at the idea of Imhoptah leaving Egypt. Ozymandias: Imhotep son of Ptah, you are a valuable and loyal servant, are you not? Imhoptah decides to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Imhoptah: Something like that, yes. Another messenger runs in. Messenger: Great Pharaoh! An esteemed sage and magician has arrived! He has traveled far and wide to see your court! Ozymandias perks up with interest. Ozymandias: Pharaoh would see this sage and magician who has traveled so far to see us. Who is he? A man in a simple but well made silk robe walks in. He is bald but has a long white beard trailing down to his waist, though his face is unlined. Rings adorn his fingers, wands are hooked to a sash around his waist, and polished orbs each slightly smaller than a fist orbit lazily around his head. New Arrival: I am Zoroaster, NeSorcerer of the current age, and long have I sought a worthy apprentice. His gaze falls upon Imhoptah. Zoroaster: Perhaps I have found him. Imhoptah smiles. This sounds interesting indeed! After only a few days, Ozymandias reluctantly bids farewell to both Zoroaster and "Imhotep son of Ptah", who journey away together, one to take instruction from the other in the ways of a strange magic called "narrative". The Pharaoh wishes that Imhoptah could have at least stayed long enough to produce a new model of Helicon Ark chariot. Ozymandias: Scribe! Take an order around to all builders and workers of my glorious kingdom. Plaques hailing me as the creator of these divine wonders are to be etched into everything! All shall look upon the works of Ozymandias, king of kings, and despair! Notes Britt the Writer "Al Ciao the Writer made a mistake with Chronos here by referring to her as 'lighter-skinned' but she is actually a black woman, therefore 'darker-skinned' than the Egyptians. OzymandiasOzymandias article, Wikipedia. was the Greek name for Ramesses IIRamesses II article, Wikipedia. but is most famous for the poem, from which the last line of the post is based on." ~ Britt the Writer References External References Category:Post Category:Leg Post